Schemata
by fan-nerd
Summary: Jean thinks that running into Eren on a mission isn't half bad. Being his partner in Covert Affairs is a safety hazard at most. Living with him is like signing his own death warrant.
1. reunion

a/n: You don't have to read _Disclosure_ first to enjoy this, but it's suggested.

***NOTE*** \- this fic is not going to have super obvious romance elements. The Eren/Jean is minor and is not a super important aspect of the story. If you're looking for that, there are plenty of awesome shipfics on ffnet and AO3. If you're cool with it otherwise, thanks, and enjoy!

**s: **In Covert Affairs, missions could either turn out to be life-threatening and horrendous, or they could end in miraculous success.

* * *

**_Schemata_**

_i: reunion_

* * *

Jean gets a call from his superior in the dead of night and contemplates letting it ring through. When he realizes his ass might be on the line, or that it could be an _actual_ emergency, he groggily answers. "Hello?"

"How do you feel about overseas work?"

He hangs up. Moments later, the man calls again and he grouses. "I didn't sign up with the task force for this kind of harassment, sir."

"Kirschtein, I have a completely valid proposal for you. You'll have to pardon the time."

_Damn right_, Jean thinks, yawning. "Well? I'm waiting."

"There are a couple crazy things going down in the northeast Turkey. An escaped convict from Canada, wanted on trial of four homicides, is rumored to have taken up residence there. Rumor is that the convict has important connections with a drug cartel we're looking for. It's your job to track him down and help us take them down."

He raises an eyebrow. "Not that I'm not honored, sir, but…why me?"

"Your power, Kirschtein. I firmly believe that you can take care of this problem quietly and without casualties." Ugh, what a tall order. "Besides, it's not like you'll be alone. Somebody told me there should be another agent out in that same area. If you're lucky, you'll have help. If not, maybe the mission will take you in! Ga ha ha!"

At the moment, Jean wants nothing more than to strangle Chief Pixis. Before he has time to decline, notification of a plane seat reservation arrives in his inbox.

"Have fun!"

"I hate you."

/ /

Jean _really_ doesn't want to be here. It's not so much the temperature as it is the area around the mission. Kids looking at the car rolling in, Christians building little churches and digging wells, preaching the word of Jesus or something.

He doesn't have a whole lot of time for the appreciation of their work, or anything other than his job, really. The murderer on the loose isn't exactly sneaky, and if he's lucky, he can reel the guy in quickly. He's already got a good grasp on his signature, and his control over his _Magnetism_ has only improved with time.

_Come on_, he thinks. _Follow the pull._

He can worry about the drug cartel later.

With the help of a translator who comes with him, he comes to the site and offers his help. Some of the younger people are out digging; others are pitching tents and starting fires, getting ready for the evening. The mission is still fairly new, and thus nothing truly reminiscent of a mission – a fully dug well, a school, a playground, houses, and so forth – can be found.

Jean rolls up his sleeves begrudgingly, keeping a part of his mind busy with reeling in the criminal. Of course, doing so leaves his subconscious more open than usual, so he can feel several attracting forces at the camp as well. _Damn_.

The first night passes without incident. The second night sees him bitten in several places by mosquitos, but is otherwise uneventful. The third night, a kid tries to steal Jean's wallet and is sorely reprimanded for the deed by his mother, but only after the man kicks his ass a little.

The fourth night, the murderer walks right into his trap, bumbling into the mission like a moron. Jean pulls him away from the camp quietly, incapacitates him, and murmurs low in the man's ear. "Tell me everything you know about the drug cartel looming around here." The guy slobbers and chokes on his spit. Afraid of him screaming, Jean lowers his heel on the guy's throat, but applies no pressure.

_"Kimler var?"_ A voice calls, and Jean whirls around, ready to slam someone to the ground.

_This is why I hate working overseas missions._ The guy in the shadows had probably been pulled here by his power, and he'd hate to kill an innocent for interfering in his business, but he could be a spy.

Before he can take out his gun and take care of him, the guy holds up his hands, squints, and edges closer. His hand is softly glowing now that Jean looks more closely, and his eyes grow wide. "Jean?"

"Holy _fuck_," Jean murmurs, staring at the flame. "Eren?"

/ /

"I can't believe this." The sandy-haired young man sits on the passed out murderer and scowls. "Eren fucking _Jaeger_. What are the chances?"

"Fair enough, apparently." Eren shakes his head, exhausted from helping Jean pry information out of the escapee. "I didn't know you were working with Covert Affairs."

"Yeah, well, same for you. Where are you even stationed?"

"Mostly the west coast and here these days." The brunette looks up at him and fixes him with a look. "They sent you here and you can't even speak Turkish."

"My boss sucks," Jean mutters angrily. "Believe me, I didn't want to be here either, but we're understaffed."

"True." In the quiet of the night, they sit calmly. Eren's started a fire with his power and spare kindling from the campsite. In the low glow, they study each other, startled by such a strange reunion. "Never would've taken you for the law enforcement type."

"What _type_ did you take me for?"

Eren snorts. "The get-rich-quick and shun the rest of society type."

Jean laughs heartily. "Well, you weren't wrong."

"I know."

Companionable silence falls between them before Jean sighs. "You know how it is. You come out of the Academy; you get all kinds of offers. Honestly, at the time, Affairs had the best benefits. I'm starting to wonder if the pros of the job outweigh the cons."

"You're helping people and cleaning up the world," Eren declares in a low voice, sounding reverent. "Of course they do."

"Says you, Mr. Suicidal."

Oceanic eyes glare at him sharply. "I've never tried to kill myself."

"Never _directly_, or on purpose, but you've gotten into enough life-threatening situations to last any other person a lifetime." When they hear the criminal rustle, they both immediately grow quiet, hoping to pry more information out of him. The criminal's eyes fly wildly towards Eren and the guy immediately starts crying. "Ahhh, look what you did now, Eren."

"This isn't my fault."

"He's pissing himself."

"Not my problem. You're the one sitting on him."

Jean immediately stands up and shakes out his ensuing jitters.

/ /

The guy, Nate Brigmire, blabs way more than either of them had expected. Both of them learn the cartel leader's name, background, routes, and general disposition. They learn the size of the group, their hideout, and how best to wrap them up with a neat little bow for the higher-ups and get on a plane home.

It begins with a siege on their warehouses, wherein Eren burns their stock and Jean knocks the sentry unconscious by slamming them into the ground at lightning speed. Then, they kidnap the cartel's leader, corner the remainder of the members, and have their backup arrive right on time, having alerted them of the plan last night.

Pixis laughs once they manage to find a secure connection and speak to their superiors. "What do you know? Everything turned out alright after all."

Jean hangs up as soon as he receives his flight confirmation number.

/ /

Unsurprisingly, both of them are the same flight home. Surprisingly, they are seated next to each other. Jean chalks it up to his Commander-in-Chief being an egregious piece of shit.

"It's a fifteen hour flight, not including our layover in Amsterdam." Jean grouses. "If you snore, I'll kill you."

"Same goes for you," Eren grumbles back, settling into his seat and dozing in silence.

/ /

When they land, they both receive messages for meetings with their commanders, and are once again unpleasantly reunited.

"Congratulations, boys," Shadis, Eren's Chief, sternly welcomes them into the room, where Pixis is grinning wildly. "You're going to be a unit together."

After the meeting, the two of them speak briefly.

"This is shit," Jean says.

"Don't mess this up for us."

"You are a hundred times more likely to fuck this up for us."

Eren fixes him with a _look_. "So don't _let_ me fuck this up for us."

At that, he turns and walks away, leaving Jean generally floored.


	2. collaboration

**s:** If the hazards of the job don't kill him first, Eren will.

* * *

**_Schemata_**

_ii: collaboration_

* * *

"_Watching_ an assassination? That's grunt work, sir—"

"And we have no available grunts right now," Pixis chides light-heartedly. "You know, there's always a _chance_ something could go wrong in that hotel, and nobody's saying a gas pump _has_ to explode, or that some big-wig _has_ to come flying out of a window, but there's no harm in playing it safe."

Jean groans. "You're going to be the death of me."

"No, your partner's going to be the death of _both_ of us."

Watching Eren driving the car with intense concentration and a glare strong enough to wilt flowers, he finds himself inclined to agree. "With all due respect sir, I'd appreciate if you wouldn't jinx the operation."

"Good luck!"

As soon as Jean hangs up the phone, Eren pitches in, "So, where do I go from here?"

"Make a left. You got binoculars and night goggles in the back?"

"Of course."

"Want a coffee? We're not due 'til twenty-o'clock."

"I don't drink coffee."

"Good."

/ /

There are ten snipers around various buildings, and even two guys at the gala, _just in case_, as Pixis likes to say. Everything goes very well until some kid sneaks into the party, trying to kill their tail. After that, some woman screams bloody murder because a victim's blood gets on her shirt. A sniper shoots the wrong target in the commotion.

"I hate this job," Jean groans as he concentrates on using his power of magnetism to draw the innocents towards one side of the room (the side closest to him) and leaving the others nearer to a wall that has gas pipes in it. "Can you start a fire from all the way out here?"

"No," Eren admits, "but that's why I planted explosives."

_Why didn't I think of that._

Once the targets are taken care of, the hidden operatives help the innocents escape from the building through various methods. One guy's even in place to diffuse the explosion before it gets out of hand. The police don't like Affairs' rough and tumble methods, but they're gone before anyone can even make a proper complaint about the noise, so everything is quietly swept under the rug.

The flub goes so smoothly that Jean feels like this was the plan all along.

Knowing Pixis, it probably was.

/ /

They have weeks on end with nothing to do but small, stupid jobs. They don't talk about anything important; they don't catch up on their lives. It's mostly just work, or otherwise companionable silence. Jean finds that he doesn't mind spending time with the ticking time bomb that is Eren Jaeger as long as he's quiet and isn't spreading his back with welt-burns because of his lack of control.

The first time they have any mention of the past, Jean pulls off a rather impressive but overly complicated maneuver on an operation. He's pulled someone into the sky, pulled another person apart from their rifle and slammed him into the ground, and yet another woman he's forced to her knees and against the wall to keep the commotion to a minimum.

"You must've had hellish training in post-compulsory," Eren murmurs in awe. "It almost seems like telekinesis, how well you're manipulating them."

"Well yeah, it sucked, but sorry to disappoint you," Jean wheezes through a cold sweat. "It's still my plain old passive magnetism, but I've learned how to make it work for me." After a moment of gaining his breath, the brunette offers him water and snacks, and he greedily sucks them down. "Besides, you're one to talk. Your temperament was nasty and your power control was worse. Now, you can make campfires without blinking."

Eren grimaces. "Would you believe me if I told you that Levi _personally_ took on my post-compulsory education and beat the discipline into me?"

Jean laughs darkly. "I would, actually. He always liked you best."

"You think so? After he started coming for private lessons, I'm pretty sure he liked Mikasa more than me, and Armin best."

"_Armin_?"

Eren half-smiles, and it throws Jean off so bad he chokes on a protein bar. "He's smart _and_ cunning. Besides, Levi finally had someone that appreciated his convoluted poop jokes."

"That's terrifying, thanks."

"You're welcome."

/ /

Eren's hand lands on one of the terrorist's shoulders, his blue-green gaze hooded and dangerous. The man's shoulder is bubbling as he keeps his face even and looms over the man whose knees are giving out. "Talk. _Now_," he commands.

Jean, who watches from afar, shivers. Eren kind of scared the shit out of him even when they were teenagers, and he remembers why. He's been on the receiving end of Eren's flames and he _does_ not want to be the other guy right now.

"I was under orders, _orders_!"

"From who?" Steam curls out of Eren's mouth and the man starts weeping in fear.

"Stop! Stop, I'll tell you everything—I'm dying, you devil!"

A hand comes down in the same place as before and he half-heals the burn. "Jean. Record everything he says, and send it to a cryptologist as well as a translator when he's done."

The man clasps his hands together and bows his head to Eren, messy tears racing down his face and garbled prayers passing his lips.

Eren doesn't do him the favor of sticking around, mostly because the sight disgusts him.

Jean just wants to go home.

/ /

"How do you like working with Jean?" Mikasa asks him one night.

He shrugs. "It's not bad."

"I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't."

"So isn't it difficult to work with him?"

"I never said I didn't respect him."

"And that makes it different?"

"Yes."

/ /

Jean pulls him aside after a particularly nasty tussle with an underground weapons dealer, shaking his shoulders. "What are you doing? Are you thinking? Like, at _all_?"

Eren blankly stares at him. "No."

A heavy punch meets his jaw and Jean winces at the nostalgic burn. "Your lack of self-preservation is going to get all of us killed. Do you even know the size of the fire you made?"

Curling a fist, Eren breathes out sorrowfully, "No. I don't remember."

Jean punches him again, wincing at the burn welts.

/ /

At home in his tub, he boils the water around him, watches as fire dances and goes out above the waves. The steam rises towards the open window and he grows absent minded. For a moment, he lets fire race up the tile before he thinks about his mother's words.

_"I never blamed you. I do miss sleeping in such a beautiful house, though."_

Eren grows silent before reeling himself back in. He's determined to figure things out before it's too late.

/ /

Jean opens the door with a sheaf of papers in his hand and glasses perched on his nose, immediately annoyed. "The chief gave you my address?"

His partner fixes him with a look. "We had to exchange addresses in case of emergency."

_Right_, he thinks with a scowl. "So?"

"I'm sorry."

He raises an eyebrow. "For?"

"For messing everything up."

"Damn straight."

Eren exhales slowly. "Thanks. For stopping me."

Jean leans back and takes a deep breath. "An apology and thanks in the same day? The apocalypse is nigh."

He scowls. "Don't be a dick."

"I've earned the right to needle you this week." The brunette grumbles, but doesn't contest this. "Just don't do shit like that anymore, okay? I wasn't sure you would even heal me afterwards, because I was taking a gamble on being able to stop you."

"I wouldn't hurt people I'm not supposed to hurt."

He fixes him with a heavy stare. "Could've fooled me."

"I'm being serious right now."

"So am I." Jean glares at him. "You could've killed me."

Eren glares back. "I'd _never_ kill you."

After a heated pause, the blonde sighs and says, "I know. Sorry."

They both stand awkwardly before Eren excuses himself and goes home.

/ /

"There are two agents from the Academy. Powers unknown. Do not underestimate them. I repeat, do _not_—"

Eren's knee comes crashing into the guy's head and Jean snorts over the intercom. "They're practically yelling with all this noise."

"Be quiet for a sec, I'm trying to smoke the rest of them out."

"You scare the shit out of me, Eren, and right now, I mean that in the best way possible."

"Remind me to punch you later."

"No thanks."

/ /

He receives a phone call at around two in the morning and answers immediately. "How's your new job, brat?"

"It's okay," Eren replies blearily, trying to wipe exhaustion from his eyes. "You wouldn't believe it, but I'm working with Kirschtein again."

"You sick bastard. You slept your way into his job? I thought you were with Covert Affairs."

"What the hell? No, Levi, we're _both_ in CA, he's my partner now."

"Perfectly good example of fuck-buddies to me. Or maybe you're lovers? Partner is a pretty heavy term."

"You're unbelievable."

"Have safe sex. Clean your asshole before and after."

"We're never discussing this again, ever."

/ /

"It's a long-term mission," Pixis says.

"You'll be catching one of the most dangerous men in history," Shadis adds.

"Your salary will increase."

"All housing costs incurred will be covered."

Jean feels dread crawl in his stomach. "Okay, for all this build up, the catch has to be horrendous. What the hell do you want us to do?"

"First," Shadis explains, "Eren will need to take on a new job at the advertising firm _JRT_. Once he gets there, we already have somebody on the inside. They'll guide him to where he needs to be over the next twelve months."

"At the same time," Pixis preens, "Jean will open a small family restaurant on the edge of town, slightly popular with local cliental, but in need of major advertisement to open another branch in the city."

"Then," both of them speak creepily in unison, "We'll have the leader of _JRT_, Braun, a corporate fraud, right where we want him."

"I'm not exactly cut out for white-collar work, sir," Eren grouses, looking frustrated. Hell, Jean can't blame him – this is absolute bullshit.

"I don't know the first thing about restaurants," Jean protests.

"That's what I said," Pixis sounds pleased. "So we'll do it the other way around. It makes more sense anyways. Oh right, before I forget—the whole reason we picked your team in the first place is because of your powers, but more importantly, because of your record while working together, and…" This is the catch; Jean can feel it. "We're putting you in the state's most populous homosexual area."

Both of them deadpan at the same time, "What."


	3. alternative

a/n: What is an update schedule, lolol. Also pretty sure I'm gonna hammer out a third (and probably final) part of this series tonight, if you guys are interested. Thanks for reading, have an awesome day!

**s:** They're both convinced that this long mission is literally hell.

* * *

**_Schemata_**

_iii: alternative_

* * *

The move is carried out before either of them can stop it. Eren goes back to his shithole of an apartment and finds all of his ratty furniture removed; Jean goes to his loft and is pissed because they took his favorite coffee mug out with his bedframe.

Their new condo is an upgrade in all senses, but they're both uncomfortable there. Eren picks his bedroom without consulting his new housemate silently appraises the furniture. Jean bitches about how new everything is because he's a creature of habit and he was attached to his shitty recliner that had a half-broken lever.

For the first week or so, the blonde and the brunette avoid each other. Eren is thoroughly drilled on restaurant ethics, proper protocol and manners, and lectured on the menu, for which he will have to find a chef to create all of the food. Jean has to read through hundreds of files and memorize his stupid fake résumé.

In Eren's opinion, the worst part of the whole thing is their undercover names. They're close to their own, so they'll still answer easily, but the spelling is such a pain. "Aaron just looks weird. Why are there two a's?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jean mutters. "I always hated the name Johnathan. I'm a hundred percent certain someone's going to call me Nathan to dick with me."

"What? Don't you get enough complaints about the weird spelling of Jean in the first place?"

"It's not weird," he argues, "it's French."

"Whatever."

/ /

Eren has a PR manager who handles all of the sociable aspects and an HR manager who hires the people for the restaurant. He sits there, pretending to be the owner while the two of them push him through the whole process. His people are a colorful bunch – a hostess named Krista, a chef named Marco and another named Franz, and three members of the waitstaff: Thomas, Mina, and Laura.

Honestly, the staff is small, but the brunette still feels a little overwhelmed. He's never been much of a people-person, but he supposes part of the job is pretending.

Jean, on the other hand, feels horrendously isolated at work, at least for a time. He's stuck with a bunch of stern-faced old men and a couple other entry workers his age, doing mind-numbing work as efficiently as he can, making himself stand out in the break room and at employee opinion meetings.

If at all possible, he wants to shorten the year, but even he knows that a year stuck on this stupid mission is a vast underestimate, mostly because of Eren's half.

/ /

The first couple months of settling into work are less stressful than either of them expect. Eren dedicates all of his energy and focus into anything he does, so the restaurant takes off nicely. The décor of the place is modern and woody, the staff is pleasant, and the food is good. Jean takes to corporate like a fish takes to water. His work personality is just snarky enough to be acceptable, and his opinions are pertinent.

If anything is to be said for their cohabitation, it's that they clash _horridly_. Eren keeps the bathroom immaculate, but ruins the living room beyond comprehension. Jean tidies the kitchen, but the mess of his study floods into the hallway.

Their only saving grace is that they don't have to share a bedroom.

/ /

They run into they first big snag with Eren's finances after the first fiscal quarter. "We're making positive margin, but…"

"But what?" Jean looks over the frames of a set of reading classes, brow creased.

"There's no way we'll have room in the budget for advertising by second quarter. We hardly get enough foot traffic from the locals."

"That's enough reason for a campaign in second quarter."

"The whole point of this project was to get Braun to invest personally so that we can trace his finances backwards. _Fidelity_ has to be worth hundreds of thousands—if not _millions_—before he'll even take a step in our store."

"Damn." Jean exhales heavily. "So, what's the plan?"

Eren flicks an annoyed glance his way. "I don't know this kinda stuff. That's why I asked you."

"You want me to balance your books for you on top of my job? Hell no."

"I didn't say that," he seethes, "I just wanted some advice to make sure our mission goes smoothly."

After a long, awkward pause, Jean tentatively offers his best idea. "Well, since it's a local restaurant, maybe you could start by making friends with the locals."

As expected, Eren grimaces in response.

/ /

Eren slumps in one evening to find Jean half-dozing on the couch. He startles the blonde awake when he collapses on the floor and sighs.

Jean mumbles, "Bad day for the restaurant?"

"Bad day for the park," he grumbles into the floorboard. "You wouldn't believe how many children almost poked me in the eyes."

"At least old women didn't hit on you or something."

"It was way worse than that," Eren admits with a yawn. "The whole neighborhood is talking about us. I probably only made it worse by coming out and inviting them to the restaurant."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yes and no. Yes because I think tomorrow we'll have enough people there to have a line out of the door."

"I'm not hearing any bad news so far."

"They think we're the new young gay couple that moved into town, and they're very excited to welcome us."

"You're never going to the park again."

/ /

Krista comes in surprisingly early one morning, sending soft smiles to Marco and Franz as they prepare the kitchen for the day. Eren is there as well, focused on trying not to cut his fingers off while he dices tomatoes. He looks up at the sound of her coming through the back entrance and nods.

"Good morning, Mr. Aaron," the blonde young woman greets.

"Just Aaron is fine, Krista," Eren answers quietly, handing the dish of tomatoes to Marco to be turned into puree.

She smiles softly. "I'll try my best, but you _are_ older than me."

"Ah," Marco nods knowingly. "I get that. It's hard to break old habits."

Their boss furrows his brow and shakes his head softly. He's not used to being around such polite people. "Hope you guys are ready for another crazy day. We need some new hires," he breathes tiredly.

"Really?" Franz looks up, and Krista seems perky as well. "I have a friend that's been looking for a job."

"Me too! She's definitely more suited for working in the back, though."

"Think they'd mind bussing tables?"

Both of them answer, "No, sir!"

"Then they're hired."

/ /

Jean unbuttons his collar and fans himself gently with a folio. Summer is a terrible season in a stuffy office, and he's starting to think Eren's ridiculously high natural temperature is rubbing off on him. Mike and Nanaba, the only two people he works with that he doesn't hate, wander over to his desk when break time rolls around.

"You seem distracted," the shorter of the two smiles softly. "Everything going alright with your project, John?"

"I'm only having some trouble sorting things out with the graphics department. Nothing too terrible." Jean sighs. "If I had to name one reason I look so out of it, I'd have to say my housemate."

"You have one?" Mike murmurs quietly.

The sandy-haired young man kicks back and digs through his bag for food. "Yeah. Actually, you might know him." Playing his cards right, he grins and uncaps his thermos of soup and a gorgeous-looking pressed sandwich in a plastic bag. "You know _Fidelity_, the new café?"

"He works there?"

Jean makes a show out of sipping his soup and grins. "He owns the place. Want some?"

Nanaba tries it and hums in approval. "This is amazing."

Mike sniffs it carefully before trying it and grins after tasting it. "If you don't want him, give him to me."

"Get real. His cooking skill is the only reason I haven't kicked him out yet." He skips over the part where it took Eren half a year to get this talented, and that was thanks to Marco and Franz's careful tutelage. Actually, this food is so good that the two of them had probably cooked it and Eren had just brought it home.

"You know," Nanaba says contemplatively, "we should hold lunch meetings there every once a while. It'd be a nice break from the office, at the very least."

"Really? You think Nile would want to go?"

"You kidding?" Mike snorts. "With how picky he is about food, he'd probably move into the place."

/ /

Eren shoulders his cell phone and squints his eyes. "What?"

_"I said, reserve a table of seven for me at twelve-thirty."_

"Are you kidding me?" The brunette grouses angrily. "That's the middle of rush. I won't have space. Why didn't you make a reservation yesterday?"

_"I didn't exactly have time."_

"You could've told me last night," Eren spits back. His employees are gathering, carefully averting their eyes while they listen to him bicker over the phone.

_"This is seriously important, dipshit—my manager's coming. He's friends with Mr. Braun."_

In a moment, Eren's mood changes and he nearly shouts. "Why didn't you tell me that sooner!"

_"I was trying to!"_

"Twelve-thirty?"

_"Table for seven."_

"You got it."

/ /

Eren comes over to mingle with them, chatting amicably. It's the most Jean has seen him smile, ever. It's creepy.

Nile, as Mike had said, offers to have lunch meetings take place at _Fidelity_ every other week. He even promises to bring Mr. Braun for coffee one day—that's how stellar he finds his latte.

It's Eren's third fiscal quarter, Jean's eighth month at his job, and both of them feel successful enough to celebrate when the day is over.

/ /

There's a strange night in the middle of winter where he finds Eren on the phone, surrounded by low, red-orange flames. The sight is foreign—and dangerous—so he promptly freaks out before he gets closer and realizes that they aren't burning anything.

"I'm _fine_, Mikasa," he murmurs lowly. "Look, I've gotta clean up, so I'm going now. I'll call you later, okay? Stay safe. Bye." As soon as he clicks the phone off, he stares at Jean and snorts. "You can come in. I'm not gonna set the place on fire."

"Eren, I just came in and saw everything on the first floor of our condo engulfed in flames. You'll have to excuse me for thinking the worst." Jean steps in cautiously, grimacing all the while. "What's this all about?"

"Venting frustration."

"By setting our place on fire?"

He clicks his tongue. "I already said I wouldn't."

"So, you were venting your frustration…by swirling…lukewarm flames around our house?"

Eren looks at Jean like maybe setting his roommate on fire would solve all of his problems. "I have to let my power out somehow, and this is the least destructive way. I _thought_ you'd appreciate it."

The blonde holds up his hands. "No, don't worry, I do. Just…surprised, I guess."

"It's been eight years. My control's gotten a lot better."

Jean runs a hand through the flames in awe. "This is pretty crazy. I'm impressed."

"Thanks, I guess." A moment later, the flames stop licking everything and retreat back to Eren's skin in a way the other male has never seen before. Eren shudders once he's done and flops down on the couch. "You don't have to, to control your powers?"

"In small doses, but not all of us can be flashy with flames or healing," Jean answers, slipping past Eren's wiry limbs hanging over the couch to go to the kitchen. "I'm a passive, remember?"

"So, what, you occasionally push and pull your co-workers around or something?"

Jean smirks, awfully proud all of the sudden. "I sometimes make my least favorite co-workers trip and spill coffee all over each other."

Eren can't help his snort. "So petty."

"I'm fucking hilarious."

/ /

The beginning of _Fidelity_'s second fiscal year is approaching. Eren has probably been up for three days straight, and Jean is up for promotion.

They're high-strung and their papers are getting mixed together.

It is hell.

They break into a fistfight over nothing one night. Mikasa and Armin visit the following morning, finding Eren's back terribly bruised and Jean's arms lightly burned.

After two weeks of living separately—Jean in his suddenly horribly oversized condominium, and Eren with his two best friends in a high-rent apartment on the other side of town—Eren returns with a scowl, shakes on clearing up their problems, and gets back to work.

Eren hands Jean a neatly organized sheaf of papers, marked with pen and highlighter on some pages and with dog-ears on others. He says, "It's finally plausible for _Fidelity_ to open up a second branch somewhere in the inner city. It'd take a hell of a loan, but given current business trend, and with the help of the right advertising," here he flicks his oceanic eyes up and hopes that Jean understands the gleam in them, "we can increase overall profit margin by twelve percent, minimum."

"Credit score?"

"Seven hundred and two."

"Fuck," Jean breathes in reverence, holding a palm to his forehead. "We might actually be able to pull this off."

Breathing out a slow breath, Eren smiles very softly, almost cautiously. "Great."

After a pause, Jean drops his good news. "I was gonna tell you later, as part of our…gross make-up session or whatever—"

Eren scrunches his face. "Uh."

"I said _whatever_—anyways, I talked the big boss into coming to the restaurant. I'm not saying we should have our heads in the clouds and hope for the best, but hey—if the owner of a small advertising firm likes your food, that increases the restaurant's chances of getting a big campaign."

"Jean," the brunette begins, his voice stilted, "I never thought I'd say this, but you're kind of amazing."

Jean punches him, playfully instead of with venom like he had a couple weeks back. "Only kind of?"

/ /

Reiner Braun is a brawny old man with a strange sense of humor and a wily smile. Eren comes out and welcomes him with his weirdly bright smile—the one Jean hates because it makes Eren look like a fucking _psychopath_—and the man instantly falls in love with the French toast and strawberry compote.

"You know," he grins while tossing an arm over Eren's shoulder, startling him. "This is the kind of business I've always wanted in this neighborhood! What I wouldn't give to have one of these closer to my apartment."

Eren swallows hard and his grin becomes even more warped (to Jean's eyes only, of course). "It's funny that you should say so, sir."

Jean comes home that night and drafts the contract.

/ /

"It's been three months since we signed the official contract," Eren stress-vents, running a hand through messy dark tresses. "What the fuck?"

"Even though the advertisements are successful, HR has their hands full trying to actually get the damn location filled with new people. Not to mention, IT ops have their hands full with looking into all of Braun's business now that they have his records. He's putting personal cash into this little project, no matter how stupid that sounds. We're almost a year ahead of our new projected schedule."

"I liked it better when we were cleaning up the streets in developing nations."

"If you don't shut up, Chief Pixis will find some way to make our lives more of a living hell."

"That still doesn't explain all this goddamn red tape. What the fuck is wrong with corporate?"

"That's just how corporate _is_, Eren."

"I think we should set everything corporate on fire."

The most terrifying part is that Jean believes he might actually do it. "Can we put that on hold until I get out of it?"

"I won't kill innocents. Just money-laundering, red-tape inducing assholes."

"Eren?"

"What?"

"Do me a favor and shut up now before I decide to call the cops on you."

"Technically, we're above the cops."

"I sincerely hate you so much."

/ /

The new branch of the restaurant opens halfway through the second fiscal year. Mr. Braun is there for the grand opening, smiling along with Jean, the new shining star of _JRT_, and Eren, the handsome young face of _Fidelity_.

Two weeks later, Shadis sends them a confirmation that their mission is complete. They're due to sort out all the kinks for the following few months, which include keeping the restaurant afloat and making sure Jean slips out of _JRT_ relatively unnoticed.

With help from their connections—namely Mike, whom Jean had never known was working for CA—the whole process is deceptively easy. Thinking back, it makes sense. Mike had always seemed informed on all his projects, and he'd had Braun's trust, having worked there for more than five years.

As they're packing up their things, a strange stagnant feeling settles over them. "What are we going to do about the condo?" Jean mutters, angry for no good reason.

"They'll sell it, I guess. It was already paid for, anyways," Eren answers, sounding equally frustrated. "You know, I hated this whole staying in one place thing, but I hate being ripped from the place even more."

"Hate to say it, but I got used to living with you. Worse still, I'll have to pay rent again."

"Me too," Eren admits quietly. "I could move in with Mikasa and Armin, but I hate their place. Makes me feel like I need to take three showers before I even go inside." They share a look before nodding. "Hope you like the west coast."

Jean snorts. "Not even asking my opinion?"

"There's no way in hell I'm moving to Maine, Jean."

/ /

"You're reassigning your location?" Pixis is laughing and Jean can't blame him this time. "Okay, great. I've got about a hundred missions for you two, anyways. Can't say you'll have time to break in your new love nest."

Jean has learned that it's easier to let the ceaseless jokes about their being a couple pass over easily. Bickering just makes people assume the worst. "Whatever you say, sir."

"Cheeky brat. You're no fun."

/ /

Before they even get all of their boxes settled in their new apartment, Eren receives a message on a secure line from his superior. It's a mission – one that's loud and flashy and explosive – and his eyes light up.

Jean sighs, dusts his hands off, and begrudgingly follows his partner outside, locking the door behind them.


	4. mortality

**s: **After a talk with his father, Eren becomes a hazard to everyone around him.

* * *

**_Schemata_**

_iv: mortality_

* * *

Jean is frightfully awoken by the image of Eren's hot not sister over him. He's sort of dizzy and startled—of course he is, the woman's grabbing him by his collar and glaring daggers. "Mikasa?" He calls blearily, shocked and trying not to let his training kick in and knock her to the floor. Mostly he doesn't let it kick in because he'd get his ass kicked twice before landing a blow.

"Where's Eren?"

"I'm not sure, exactly," Jean answers, kind of pissed now. "He's out on a solo mission. He's due for check in at some _human_ time, like seven or something. What is it, three a.m.?"

"Two-thirty. It's about his dad. Contact him now." Mikasa lets him go so quickly that he trips back onto his bed with a cough.

"I could compromise his mission," he starts, rubbing his chest. "I'll send him a message and see if he can talk."

The dark-haired woman holes up in a corner of their fairly new apartment while Jean flits through the kitchen, making breakfast and keeping an eye out for a reply. Around four a.m., after he's dozed off into a cup of coffee and Mikasa has downed five, the phone buzzes and the woman nearly takes the damn thing out of his pocket.

He can't let her do that though, no matter how hot and powerful she is. There's a lot of important shit on the phone he has to get rid of in two weeks. Eren's message is in code, but it reads, _All clear in thirty minutes. Call at 0440._

They do. Jean preludes Mikasa by moments at best. "Your hot sister's here."

Jean can hear Eren's impending annoyance, and can almost hear the constant retort of, _she's not my sister, damn you, I've told you this a million times_, but none of them have the time. "Your father's in the hospital."

"What happened?"

"Stroke. Not sure if it's serious. He says he wants to talk to you."

"Okay. Which hospital?" Mikasa answers and Eren groans. "It'll take me ages to get there. How's Mom doing?"

"I wouldn't say she's taking it well, but it's not as bad as it could be. Her health is all right, she's just worried. Maybe a little stressed."

"Well, go and calm her down."

Mikasa chuckles. "You say that like it's so easy. It isn't even visiting hours yet."

"At least you don't make her blood pressure higher when you come by," Eren quips, then grunts, "and if they give you any trouble, tell them who I am and give them my number. I'll make them regret it."

"Alright. Be safe, Eren."

"Would you relax for once in your life? I'm _fine_."

"I worry."

"Don't."

Eren hangs up and Jean tenses, not ready to be under Mikasa's scrutiny just yet. It's still way too damn early in the morning. Luckily, she finds it in her to be forgiving now that she's talked to his roommate. "Thank you."

"No problem," Jean mutters in reply, but she's out of sight before he finishes speaking.

/ /

Eren had moved his whole family when he got stationed for CA. He'd transferred his mom to a better hospital, yelled at his dad until the man started up a new practice on the other side of the country, and encouraged his friends to take lucrative opportunities out near him.

It's kind of sickening how well it all falls into place. They follow him like lost sheep. The only one who isn't a follower, and who the blonde is sure initiated the whole thing, from Eren's graduation to his current lifestyle in CA, is Levi, Eren's instructor from the Academy.

He's an eerie, irritable little shit of a man, and anybody sane is terrified of him.

Jean absolutely will not admit that he's sort of jealous of Eren's little community and the life that he's been granted thanks to many helpful adults and supportive friends. His mom is miles away in the middle of nowhere, his dad's dead, and although Jean's never been bad at making friends, he's always been busier looking out for himself.

Even if he wanted to meet back up with his old classmates from the Academy, or even his fellows from CA training, there would probably only be one or two of them that would even pick up the phone.

That's depressing, so Jean uncharacteristically throws himself into preparation for his next solo mission.

/ /

"The Academy's been talking to me," Grisha starts, somber and quiet. "About private experiments."

Eren processes sharply, "On me."

"I refused," his father says sternly.

"Why?"

Grisha looks suddenly sad. "I've been avoiding their enticements for years. Why would I allow the Academy researchers to carry out experiments on you? It's hardly humane."

"It could help."

Exasperated, he murmurs, "Help whom, Eren?"

"Me," Eren mutters.

/ /

Jean remembers why he only feels envious of Eren on rare occasions. On one night, about a month after the report of Mr. Jaeger's stroke, the brunette wakes up screaming and the blonde is terrified out of his fucking wits.

When he bursts in and finds Eren mostly on fire, screaming at the top of his lungs, he hurls himself into the fire quickly and hopes that he can wake his roommate up before their neighbors call the cops, or before he dies of third-degree burns.

"Eren—wake the fuck up, you sack of shit." He smacks the other man, trying to keep from screaming himself. "We need to get out of here and put these flames out, and for _god's sake_ if you don't wake up, I'm throwing you out of the window."

Eren starts awake, gasping for air and sweating through the flames. He shoots out cool flames, steam pouring off of him as he calms down and trembles, barely managing to heal Jean. "Shit."

Jean shudders and says, "Shit is right. Insurance is a godsend right about now."

After a terrifying moment, Eren collapses on the floor. Jean is sure that by the way he's hunching, he's crying. "Sorry."

Feeling like shit after probably scaring the guy half to death when he'd been screaming in his sleep, he says, "it's okay."

"It's not," Eren responds harshly, messily wiping at his face. "It's really fucking not, I _hate_ this."

"Yeah, okay, it's actually piss, but you can't do anything about your powers acting up while you're sleeping." Eren laughs shakily, a sound full of self-loathing. "Don't _do_ that."

"Trust me, I'd stop if I fucking _could_—"

"Not the fire thing," Jean mutters quietly. "Stop acting like you being a screw-up is the end of the world."

If the brunette's grasp lingers on the blonde's arm too long while he sniffles, neither of them mention it. After Jean is sure Eren isn't crying and that the smoke alarm in the apartment can be repaired quietly, he gets up to leave and sighs.

Whatever Mr. Jaeger said to his son, it's fucking up their whole living situation.

That night, Jean has a fresh realization that he's living with the most likely cause of his death.

/ /

Armin's grip is firm on his shoulder. "No."

"I need to do something. They could help."

"They'll treat you like a lab rat," the shorter man admonishes his friend, pleading with watery sky-blue eyes. "They could make your powers even harder to control."

Eren looks lost and pissed and tired. "Why are you so against this?"

"Because," Armin pleads, frustrated, "I know you. You _hate_ being forced to be anyone's guinea pig, _especially_ if it's for you. For the greater good, you'd try—god help you, you'd probably try until you coughed up blood—_but_," he punctuates the word by digging his clipped nails further into Eren's shoulder, "if it's for you, you'd end up doing more harm than good. It'd wind up in nothing but tears, angry ravings, and more than a few deaths."

"I wouldn't—are you insane, Armin?" Eren seethes, reeling around his friend and trying hard to find the right words and failing.

Vindictively, the blonde bites, "How many people have you—you _personally_—killed?"

Blue-green eyes narrow and the air grows cold between them. "That question isn't fair and it doesn't matter."

"_Answer_ me."

"They deserved it."

"It doesn't matter. Answer me!"

"Enough." After a pause where Armin studies his face, Eren roars, "A lot! A fucking lot, okay!"

"Over a hundred?"

"I don't count," he mutters. "It's a hazard of the job, being a murderer."

"How many people has _Jean_ killed?"

Eren turns on his heel and leaves the apartment, in a mood foul enough to nearly set the place on fire, but he doesn't.

He doesn't, mostly because that would prove Armin's point.

/ /

On a monitoring mission, Eren suddenly interrupts an otherwise quiet line by asking his partner, "How many people have you killed?"

Jean nearly sputters at the inquiry. He's so surprised that he ignores protocol by radioing back, "Four or five, on orders, I guess. I don't really count." He doesn't mention that thinking about that would also hinder his sanity. "Stop talking. He moved."

Eren obeys.

/ /

"You're too stupid to have an existential crisis," Levi grunts. "You don't even know what existential means."

Eren flips down on the couch and grunts back. "You are literally the worst instructor of all time."

"I take that as a massive compliment," the older man quips back. "Nobody else but the worst would keep working with you, brat."

Feeling remorseful, especially in light of recent events, Eren tenses up and murmurs, "You deserve better, sir."

"It was a joke, kid."

"I'm twenty-six, Levi."

"I'm forty-two. What's your point?"

"My _point_ is my power's getting out of control. I thought this shit was supposed to stop after higher training."

"You're a special case, Eren. Maybe it never will. Could be that your power's evolving, like how it did with the non-fire flames or whatever the hell."

"Then I really should get inspected after all."

"And let all my hard work go to waste? Fuck that."

"You don't want me to either? What is _with_ everyone?"

"I think it's a shitty ass idea because they'll lace you up with drugs and you'll probably come out of it as even more of an rabid animal." Levi deadpans seriously, sending a shiver down Eren's spine. Just hearing his instructor's voice is enough to terrify him, even so many miles apart. "That being said, I know I can't fucking stop you. More than the fact that you're a grown ass adult, you've never learned how to clean the wax out of your filthy ears and use what's between them."

"And you say I'm the one birthed from Satan's asshole."

"There's no way I'd come out of anything that disgusting. I'm more like a demon plucked out of Satan's freshly-washed hair."

"You are the strangest man on the face of this earth."

"I take flattery better in the form of cash, check, or money order."

/ /

Jean has a moody date with a frustrated woman. He comes back to the apartment and grouses. Eren doesn't care. Jean's convinced that Eren has no bodily needs other than eating, breathing, and letting out the unbridled rage that's always bubbling under his skin.

It would scare the shit out of him if he knew that Eren wasn't so good.

So good it's scary.

Scary to the point of being criminal.

He remembers Eren's grin as he had choked a resistance leader oversees. He remembers Eren smiling, covered in blood and growling at the loss of innocent lives, surrounded by fire and crying like he'd been wrecked by the very thought.

He thinks of Eren turning and saying, _"Jean, we're partners, right? Help me destroy the world," _in one moment. In another, a plate of hot food greets him under his nose and his roommate, scowling, as per usual.

"Are you gonna eat or what?" Eren asks and Jean laughs weakly.

"Yeah," he answers, taking slow bites to come back to reality. "Thanks."

/ /

"I need this, Dad."

"Eren." His voice is hard.

"You can't talk me out of this."

"This is the wrong decision. This isn't like the institution—their researchers can't be trusted."

"Maybe not," Eren spins on his heels, raw fury in his eyes, "but it's better than almost setting someone else on fire in my sleep again."

Grisha's mouth opens and closes a few times before his son leaves.

/ /

Eren cries in her lap. She toys with his hair quietly, singing him a soft lullaby.

"I love you, Eren," Carla murmurs.

His fingers fist in her gown and he cries harder.

/ /

"I couldn't stop him, Mikasa."

She grimaces. "I couldn't either. Neither could his mom."

Armin drowns in concern. "He's going to get himself killed."

After a long stretch of silence, Mikasa says, "Jean will."

"He doesn't even know what's going on, does he?"

"Not really."

Watery blues flick up with shaky hope. "How can you say that?"

"It's just a feeling."

/ /

Jean's hand is on his wrist. Eren contemplates releasing his power to make him let go. He's ultimately stopped by the blonde's voice. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

With an eyebrow raised, he says, "You sure didn't look like you were coming back."

Eren shakes off his hand with a glare and mutters, "I wasn't."

"Wow, not even two-weeks notice," Jean snarks.

"I left enough money to pay for my half until the lease is up."

Jean glares at him, pulling Eren towards him roughly. "What's this about?"

"You never cared about what kind of shit I threw myself into before."

"You've always been a suicidal bastard."

Exasperatedly, Eren tries to jerk his hand away and fails because Jean's using his power to pull him back. "I've _never_—"

"Then what do you call this?"

"Fixing things," the brunette growls while pushing Jean into the wall.

"Is this about the nightmares with your mom?"

"Shut _up_."

"It is. You fucker."

"Shut up, Jean." His skin is getting hotter and Jean, ironically enough, smirks at the reaction.

"Willing to kill me to get me out of the way?"

"No, _goddamn it_—"

"Why are you leaving? Where are you going to kill yourself?"

"It doesn't _matter_, now get out of the fucking way, we're too old for this shit!"

"Answer the question!"

"Why won't you let _go_?" Eren growls.

"Because you're _insane_," Jean says, tired and frustrated and impatient. "Who's going to keep you alive if it's not me, huh? Mikasa? She doesn't deserve that kind of life."

"I know she doesn't, why do you think I'm…"

"Running to get answers at the expense of your life?"

"I thought you said you didn't know where I was going?"

"I was bullshitting. Academy research facility?"

"You prick."

"You don't need them."

"I'm a killer."

"That's just a work hazard. It happens."

Eren barely manages to whisper, "I enjoy it."

Jean quietly replies, "You think I didn't notice?"

"So why are you stopping me?"

"Because…" _Why, exactly?_ But the thought is deceptive—he knows, _goddamn it_, of course he knows. "I just."

"Just _what_, Jean?"

It isn't safe, being around Eren. He's known that as long as he's known _him_. As time goes on, he only understands more. His self-preservation is yelling at him to get away fast, while he can, but his mouth says, "You shouldn't go off on your own."

"You're not my mom."

"You're stuck with me now," Jean says, locking eyes with him, "and getting rid of me means killing me."

Eren stills. "I can't."

"You're a killer, aren't you?"

"I _can't_!" Eren snarls, sinking to the floor in an eerie rage.

"Why not?"

"Fuck you."

"Why _not_, Eren?"

Eren mutters, "I don't know."

"Bullshit."

"You're worse than horse piss."

Jean laughs. "You've been talking to Levi."

"What of it."

"His toilet humor is infectious." After a long period where they just sit together, backs pressed against each other, Jean tentatively calls his name. "Eren?"

"What?" Eren breathes softly, like he might be falling asleep.

"Don't go."

Jean finds himself nodding against Eren's natural warmth after another long pause, but he starts awake when words rumble against his back.

"Don't make me regret this."


	5. disillusionment

a/n: Thank you guys for the follows and kind words. They absolutely lift me up! On another note, there will be a third (and final) part of this series, Fringe (two chaps long). I'll be uploading the first part tomorrow. I hope you enjoyed Schemata!

**s:** Changes, for better or worse.

* * *

**_Schemata_**

_v: disillusionment_

* * *

Jean wakes up in his bed, which is cold as fuck.

He creeps to the kitchen with a shudder, wondering if he left a window open last night.

His eyes fly open at the sight of the place, full of fresh, shining ice that leads to Eren's body, which is almost fully encased in it. He's _bundled_ in it, looking warm and rosy as per usual.

"Eren," Jean's teeth chatter as the cold seeps into his bones. "Eren, wake the hell up and get rid of this."

Blue-green eyes flicker open—except that they aren't their usual color. His irises have turned gold, and there are flecks of the color in his pupils as well. "What?"

"The ice," the blonde gestures around them. "Your eyes are different."

"Shit," Eren mutters, emitting flames and melting most of the ice. "What're they like?"

"Yellowish. Creepy enough to make a man shit his pants. Kinda perfect for tonight's mission."

"Jean," Eren grumbles, "I just woke up with a new power and yellow eyes. At least give me time to eat before we talk business."

/ /

Eren hangs upside down from a low wall, eyes glowing amber as their hostage cowers. Jean snickers. "This isn't funny," the brunette grumbles, curling his body tightly before hanging loosely again.

"Your have a talent for making rotten white-collar bastards cry and ruin their undies."

"Piss off." Eren huffs out cold mist.

"Look at the guy!" He points at the man, who has snot dripping down his face and can't stop shaking every time the brunette meets his eyes. "This is comedy."

Eren's nose scrunches up. "You're kinda sick, you know that?"

"You're the last person I want to hear that from."

/ /

Levi stretches on the ground, way too flexible for a forty-something year old man. His muscles are coarse—he looks like a wild animal unfurling. "Ice, huh?"

"Yes, sir," Eren stretches, not wiry by any means, but certainly not as sculpted as his instructor. It's been a couple months since they've done this because Levi lives twenty hours away from him by car, but he hasn't slacked off on his personal training.

"Do your worst, kid."

The instructor, gifted with inhuman speed, lays him flat in ten minutes. Eren winces. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't use your power unless it was absolutely necessary, sir."

"You have three now," Levi deadpans, expression blank as always. "Cut a man a break."

"You could beat me without it."

His voice lilts and his eyes gleam when he replies, "But it's more fun this way."

/ /

They argue over nothing. Constantly.

Eren almost kills Jean one morning by nearly suffocating him in ice, then burning him when taking him out of it. Jean almost kills Eren for almost killing him, magnetizing his foot to Eren's throat and keeping him trapped against the wall with snarls and a rattling list of complaints.

Their living situation is marvelously dysfunctional. Neither of them consider moving.

On a quiet night, Jean starts a friendly conversation.

"You ever think about dating?"

Eren rolls over on the couch. "No."

Jean isn't surprised, but from the recliner, he continues, "Never?"

After a pause, he says, "I wouldn't say never. I'm only human."

The admittance feels more private than anything they've talked about in the last two years. He stays quiet for the rest of the night.

/ /

Shadis unceremoniously opens the door to their apartment, finding his subordinate with bleary amber eyes. He doesn't acknowledge the change, barges in, and drops a folio on their kitchen table.

"One of you – or, hell, both of you," he grunts, "Has to seduce this woman, steal her belongings, and hang her out to dry. If everything goes to hell, you're free to kill her instead."

Eren's eyes are hard. He hates this kind of shit, and Jean knows it. "Why?"

"She's killed four CA agents, and her assets are the result of her success in human trafficking." At that, Eren's golden eyes flare and anger makes his skin burn hot.

"So, why us?" Jean asks with his arms folded over his chest. "What makes you think she's going to be looking for a serious relationship with one or two guys with shady jobs?"

Shadis points to the folder. Jean opens it with a grimace and Eren looms over his shoulder. Inside, there's a picture of a frosty-looking blonde woman with gray-blue eyes. Underneath her picture is a memo: _You wouldn't believe the kind of trouble it is to find a sturdy man in this town._

Her history is included – powerful businesswoman, sexually adventurous, fiercely loyal. As long as her type isn't beefy old guys or scrawny teenagers, one of them can probably win her over. Apparently she isn't much of a talker, though – then again, neither is Eren. They'd probably send each other cool glares over dinner for an hour and walk out of a restaurant with the idea that the date had been perfect. Otherwise, she'd like Jean, who's flashy enough for the both of them, and would try his best to coax a smile out of her.

Both of them are dangerous enough to suit her fancy. The rest just comes down to her surface tastes.

"Because Pixis believes you can succeed."

Jean answers for both of them before Eren can complain. "Then we'll do our best, sir."

/ /

"How are you being set up?" Mikasa towels her hands dry and leans against the counter, pressing the phone further against her ear.

"For a cautious killer, she's pretty easy to get close to, apparently. It's probably some sort of trap, trying to find…" After a pause, he disgustedly finishes, "_products_ on her blind dates."

The woman rolls her eyes. "If you know that, then why are you doing it?"

"Because it's two against one, and she doesn't know we're CA yet."

She scowls. "That still doesn't sound like you."

Eren sighs. "I didn't accept the mission. Jean did."

"Why?"

After a pause, the brunette answers, "He thinks we can pull it off."

"Have you ever even been on a date?" Mikasa's voice is hard – whether the answer is yes or no, he'll get grilled, and thus Eren groans.

"No."

"I'm coming over to dress you."

He scowls. "No, you're not."

"Eren!"

"I'm hanging up."

/ /

Annie Leonhart has an icy stare, but she's otherwise composed and quiet.

Eren Jaeger has a furrowed brow even when he's relaxed, and is standoffish on top of being quiet.

Jean Kirschtein watches from a distance and laughs his fucking ass off.

/ /

"How'd it go?" He's grinning from ear to ear.

Eren kicks the couch he's sitting on. "You were watching the whole time. You know how it went."

"Like a train wreck?"

"More like a quiet explosion. I think she said maybe ten words to me."

"Like you were any better."

/ /

A week later, Jean has his turn. Annie intimidates him, but he's good at bluffing his way through dinner anyways. He even makes her crack one half-smile.

When he gets home, bragging that she asked him to have coffee, Eren shrugs. "Are you really surprised?"

/ /

Jean comes home looking dreadfully contented, and after his fifth happy sigh, Eren looks up from his book and glances at him, waiting for his roommate to talk.

"It's not bad," the sandy-haired man explains, "having a girlfriend." The brunette raises an eyebrow and Jean suddenly deflates. "I know, I know. Don't remind me. It's just a dumb illusion. Doesn't mean I can't enjoy it while it lasts."

/ /

Annie's hand is awfully soft on his arm when she asks him back to her apartment.

Jean, her boyfriend of five weeks, has absolutely no reason to refuse.

/ /

Pixis calls in the middle of the night and the brunette nearly misses it because his secure line is hidden under dirty laundry in his bedroom. "Hello."

"I have new information. You'll need to find Kirschtein and tell him _immediately_."

"Yes, sir," Eren grimly replies.

"On top of her offenses, she was once a good friend to Braun. She probably used some dirty connections to follow his fall back to us."

"She found us."

"Not you," Pixis says. "Just Kirschtein."

_Because only Jean worked for Braun_, Eren thinks, furious. "Damn it."

/ /

Soft blonde tresses pooled on Jeans chest as Annie slowly kissed her way up his sternum. He hummed in satisfaction as she moved to undo his belt, settling her weight on his hips.

"Damn," Jean muses. "You're built as hell, babe."

"Thank you," She purrs, immediately moving to immobilize him. Jean acts quickly, retaining use of one arm and one leg, to bloke a choking maneuver and the ability to flip them over. "And here I thought we had such a good vibe going."

"I know better than to underestimate you," he replies with a shaky smirk. "I've read up."

Annie digs a knee into his gut and quickly makes her hold more one-sided in her favor. "You didn't read enough." Her fingers go for the throat, but Jean thrashes against her. Her elbow comes back around him and he gasps, floundering for a method of escape, tears threatening to escape his eyes. Right when he's on the verge of unconsciousness, flames surround them and Jean gasps, swallowing mouthfuls of debris and breathing smoke.

"You bitch," Eren seethes, ice creeping from his mouth even as her apartment is rendered to ash. Jean passes out while she tries to escape and fails.

He skewers her through several vitals with icicles, watching life drain from her eyes before getting rid of the flames. As soon as he's sure she's dead, he turns panicked blue-green eyes to his partner on the floor, who's passed out from asphyxiation and shock.

"If you complain about this when you wake up," Eren shakes with fear as he tilts Jean's head back. "I swear to god I'll make you regret it."

He performs CPR efficiently, pressing his lips to the other man's until Jean gasps awake and grabs onto his shirt. With watery brown eyes, the taller man wheezes, "Gone?"

"Gone," Eren confirms.

/ /

Jean groans. "I can't believe you kissed me."

Eren groans back. "I _knew _you were gonna say something."

"You could have, I don't know, _called the paramedics_—"

"I skewered a woman in her apartment, which I also burned. Something tells me you wouldn't have liked explaining things to the police, the fire department, and the doctors."

Jean is petulant. "I'm never letting you live this down."

"I don't _care_."

"Why not?"

"It was an emergency. Stop being such an asshole about it."

"I'm just concerned."

Eren rolls his eyes. "About what? Your pride?"

"I don't know, that you'd have some sort of weird obligation."

"Jean, what the actual fuck."

"You saved my life," Jean mutters, sounding more pissed than he has any reason to be. "I don't know, I guess I'm just…more surprised you did. And by _kissing_ me, of all things—"

"I performed _CPR_, for Christ's sake."

Grimacing, the blonde murmurs, "You don't have to look so pissed about it."

Eren glares, grunting, "I'm pissed about whatever dumb fucking idea you have in your head right now."

"Eren, _look_," Jean stands suddenly, expression hard. "I'm glad, alright. I'm really fucking glad you saved me. I just got," he faults for a second, then continues, "worked up or some shit. It's just…it's been a long time since I could relax. I gotta be honest, I thought you'd be the one to kill me. _Indirectly_, shit, stop glaring at me. Never thought it would be…" he gulps, "_my_ mistake—a botched mission. Fuck."

Eren becomes eerily quiet. "Okay."

"And I just," the other man babbles, "I'm just bitter and angry and lonely." He reaches out for Eren and pulls his hand back. "I'm too old for this shit. I need to…to live a quiet life on my savings and…damn it, I want to be happy."

"So quit," Eren says, voice hollow.

"Are you saying I'm not qualified?" Jean's voice wavers.

"I never said that. You said you wanted…" He trails off.

"If I quit, would you quit too?"

Eren holds a shaking hand on his shoulder. "I can't, Jean. I'm not…" _Normal_. _I don't belong._ "Besides, how would you be happy with…" he can't finish the thought. "I can't."

Promises thud in their skulls and Jean pulls Eren down, a furious look in his eyes. "Tell me the truth. Am I any good at this, Eren?"

"You haven't been killed," Eren looks him dead in the eyes, expression serious. "CA won't be the same."

Jean laughs bitterly. "You're literal shit at cheering people up." After a long, hesitant pause, he presses his lips against Eren's face and makes a face like he's disgusted. Eren looks equally upset. "Damn, could you be any angrier?"

"We kind of hate each other."

"I never said that."

"You never had to." Jean kisses him again – on the lips this time – and Eren punches him. "What the hell is this? Your weird way of thanking me for saving you?"

"My weird way of saying I'm not quitting, you ass," he replies, rubbing his bruising chin. "Can you stop making this such a big deal?"

Eren settles next to him before wearing the biggest frown Jean has ever seen, then kissing him with the expression he might have for wiping shit off of his shoe. Jean grimaces back when they pull apart. "See? You can't help it."

They aren't happy – not really. They're not really sure they can be.

Still, somehow, it's better. Neither of them says why.


End file.
